Peripeteia

Peripeteia /ˌpɛrəpɨˈtaɪ.ə/ (Greek: περιπέτεια) is a sudden reversal of circumstances, or turning point. (Wikipedia)

For the past 31 years, I have had the privilege of calling Les Traff my father-in-law. Of course, our relationship has changed and grown over the years.  For the first five years of my marriage to his oldest son, Robert, Les had a delightful way of saying goodbye. Every time we parted company, instead of saying, “Have a nice day!” or “See you later!” Les would tell me, “Have a baby girl!” He was the proud father of four fine young men, but as I watched him interact with the little girls in his life, I knew he wanted one to call his own. I was an obedient daughter-in-law. When our oldest child, Emily, was born, it was clear that Les was delighted – not only in becoming a grandpa, but also in having a granddaughter. Grandpa Les enjoyed welcoming ten additional grandchildren to the family; he truly loved each and every one of them, but he always had a soft spot for the girls.

Les with granddaughters Laura and Jordan

Les and Emily

Grandpa and Grandma with all the grandchildren, in 2008

A relationship with Les hasn’t always been easy. He tended to be quiet, except for the fact that he did love arguing with his boys. He would lob outrageous statements in their direction and watch them scramble to respond. Let’s just say the conversations that followed were often quite “interesting” and rarely easy or comfortable to hear. He disliked many of the things we (as a family) loved: animated movies, science fiction, and the church, to name a few. He had strong opinions on many issues and wasn’t afraid of letting people know about those opinions. He voiced many of those strong opinions during that last day we spent with him, but he uncharacteristically apologized as we got ready to leave. “Don’t mind all the things I say.” Aside from a goodbye, those may have been the last words I heard him say. 

But the "difficult Les" was only a small part of the man I knew and loved. He cared deeply for his grandchildren. In spite of a fear/dislike of crowds, he attended many concerts, recitals, and plays for our children and professed to enjoy each one. He also attended an abundance of birthday parties, and always raved over whatever type of cake the kids had selected for me to make.  He played piano beautifully and even composed songs for his grandchildren. He invented games, just to watch those kids smile. He was a superb grandpa, and I never questioned his love for our family or his devotion to us. I enjoyed making a photo calendar for him each year, and giving it to him as a Christmas present. Les would open the present, put on his reading glasses, and (most years) the tears would flow as he looked at pictures from days gone by. He would say, "You got me again." I vowed to keep on making calendars for him as long as he lived. As long as he lived.

Les, being grandpa to our four children.

I spent time with Les every day of the last two weeks of his life. I observed him and interacted with him at his best and at his worst. He became immersed in hospital life, as he watched his wife fighting for her life. I saw his tender care of her and his fierce protection of her. I saw his exhaustion and his determination. I saw his joy and his fear. I saw his tenacity and his despair. I saw his anger and his sense of humor. I told him I loved him. I took pictures of him, loving his wife. I ate lunch with him; he paid. I grew accustomed to being with him every day, to hugging him, to doing what I could to help him through a very difficult time.

Always reaching for each other

Hospital hands

This parting would have been difficult no matter the circumstances, but that Greek word above – peripeteia – describes what has taken me off my feet. I did not expect this “sudden reversal of events.” I was not prepared for Les to end his life. I ache. I wonder. I shout. I pray. I wake up feeling exhausted. I watch my husband care for his mom faithfully while also attending to the details of his dad’s funeral. I see the love of my life stop and catch his breath at the sight of a picture. This process is desperately difficult.

The grief is worst in the mornings, before I've had a chance to put my walls in place. We have so many things to do, that I can steel myself against the emotions as the day wears on; but in the mornings, I open my eyes and see that the world has not changed, and that the Les is still gone. Breathing becomes more difficult, and emotions of every sort swirl around my head and spill out my eyes. I suppose the grief is good, and the tears are good, because the love has definitely been good. 

Les…Dad, I miss you. I desperately wish...well, it doesn't do any good to wish, so I pray; and I know, deep in my soul, that “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)

April 18, 2014 - Easter with Grandpa Les and Grandma Barb